


Second Chances

by ProngsAndPens



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (Otherwise i'm spoiling surprises, I'll add relationships and characters as they appear, Multi, Overwatch - Freeform, Post-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProngsAndPens/pseuds/ProngsAndPens
Summary: Canon-compliant (so far) story of how people lived after the fall of Overwatch, and their reactions to Winston's message as well as what haappened after. The narratives are separated at first into two parts, following Angela as she leads her life in the middle east, and Lena in London.





	1. Unexpected Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela had been living life on her own, travelling the world, and healing the innocents. What she wasn't expecting was a ghost from her past suddenly standing in front of her.

Angela was awoken, again, by the sounds of orders shouted throughout the facility she was staying at for the moment. Another conflict, another fight, still the same Mercy people have constantly looked up to for so long. She stretched, eating breakfast as she read the news on her holopad, then got into her Valkyrie suit. Another day on the job.

 

When Overwatch fell, she didn’t. The doctor was beloved by everyone, which was also the reason why no one dared to go after her, even with the PETRAS acts. Some tried, in the beginning, while the crowd’s anger towards Overwatch and its now-former members was still burning like a pyre, but she, at least, was left unscathed. The first who attempted to harm her in any way saw their businesses and reputations go down in flames the same way that the once-praised organisation did. Angela – Mercy – was a symbol of hope, of care, of gentleness, kindness, and healing. People’s fury completely dissipated when it came to her, the masses all but too aware of how much she’d done for them all, of how many lives she’d saved. So, they let her be, allowed her to continue what she’d made her duty.

 

Angela now lived between conflict zones, healing the innocent people caught in the crossfire, sometimes looking with a hidden sadness at how people’s eyes lit up the second they caught the golden gleam of her halo. She’d been nearly the only one that truly made it out with no trouble.

 

Only one person besides her had been spared the unrelenting witch hunt that took place the first few months after the Fall. Lena “Tracer” Oxton. When Overwatch fell, Lena was still very young, and, like Angela, people liked her. Her smile and positive attitude, even during the war, had been an ointment on wounds that Angela’s several medical degrees couldn’t heal. However, Lena was still less spared than Angela, and was forced to disappear. But the people remembered that she’d joined very young, and how much they had needed her to keep their spirits up. So, they didn’t hunt her down, instead focusing on the other members they managed to get their hands on.

 

They found nearly one, of course, Overwatch agents were clever enough to keep a low profile and go places where they couldn’t be recognised nor found, but it didn’t stop slander from flooding every media outlet for months.

 

Overwatch’s fall was a long time ago, now. Almost a decade had passed, and while the fond memories and the dulled ache remained, the doctor had built a life back up. A few months ago, though, Angela’s old phone had lit up with the unmistakable blue gleam of the organisation. She had never parted with it, holding on to it as a keepsake and reminder of better days. Then, it had activated with a message from Winston, using an emergency line. He was asking the people in his files to regroup and reform, to build humanity’s shield anew. The hope and will in his voice made Angela’s heart ache, just like the realisation that she’d missed him more than she’d believed she did.

 

___

 

Angela didn’t answer Winston’s call.

 

The ache she ultimately felt most came from old wounds. Overwatch had failed. Angela had come to believe that maybe the organisation had been a mistake, and that perhaps it was better if it stayed shut down. She didn’t want to be in the spotlight - or crosshairs - again. She was helping people every day, just like she’d always wanted, and having to constantly be careful and work small jobs in the shadows to avoid attracting attention didn’t sound efficient to her. She could do more her way than what she knew would be theirs.

 

___

 

She stepped out into the already warm and sun-lit desert of Egypt. There was a Helix Security facility there, next to an average-sized town, and said facility was starting to be the target of increasing attacks from various groups, eager to get their hands on anything they could take from it. Angela wasn’t worried about them, they were perfectly capable to hold their own using the exact technology that others were trying to steal. It would be long before anyone developed equipment strong enough to best the constantly-evolving Raptora suits, and if someone ever did, then the attacks would stop no matter what, because terrorist organisations were rarely interested in equipment that could be bested.

 

When Angela stepped out into the field in her own suit, it was to help the civilians that lived next door. Stray bullets, blasts from explosions, a fight that deviated from the facility and into the town, there were plenty of dangers awaiting the everyday people, and Angela’s objective – as well as duty – was to ensure that collateral damage was inexistent, or at the very least minimal.

 

Some days were calm, and when they were she’d still don the suit, tending to the sick. Sometimes, she’d take a transport into farther villages, accompanying the people delivering support packages, and continuing her work. The media didn’t follow her anymore, both due to the risk of the places she lived in, and because nobody enjoyed seeing the media attract attention to her. It got in her way, and people respected her too much.

 

___

 

Gunshots rang out, orders barked loudly, and Angela caught the spray of red that a bullet tearing through someone left behind. Looking up, she saw a Raptora suit fall, blood leaking from a hole into the metal plating. Another Raptora suit flew where the pilot once was, shooting a barrage of missiles and dodging bullets, as another pilot descended to break their teammate’s fall.

 

Angela reacted out of sheer instinct, attaching her Caduceus’ staff beam to the wounded pilot. She was in the air in seconds, breathing life back to them. A shout and a nod of thanks, and they were back in the air, protecting their own. Angela slowly descended, glad that the one pilot who took over made sure that the bullets were directed towards them and not the medic, and left towards the village.

 

Thankfully, no one was hurt yet, since the attack had come from an angle where neither party could use the small houses as cover. Since it looked like it would stay so, Angela allowed herself to keep an eye on the flying streaks in the sky.

 

The Raptora suits were truly impressive, combining agile flight and impressive firepower. Every aspiring pilot had to go through extensive training for a chance to get their hands on one, and only the best of them were allowed. Usually, said pilots had to be out on other missions, but a group of them had just come back from one, their suits needing a few repairs. So, they’d woken up that morning and immediately went to defend the facility, along some other personnel who was handling ground-to-ground defence from permanent covers.

 

Once Angela was certain that the civilians were in no immediate danger, and that she helped them all evacuate to the farther side of town, away from the fight, she went back towards the facility. As agile and solid as the suits were, wounds always happened, and Angela wasn’t willing to let anyone get badly hurt nor killed on her watch, especially since Helix was kind enough to let her stay in real housing with a bed, food, and supplies. She didn’t know how if it was solely due to her reputation or not, but there were rumours of someone making a few calls to ensure that she’d be treated well. She didn’t know who was her possible benefactor, but she was glad for the rare comfort. So, she was going to thank them by taking care of their best employees.

 

She flew up between the pilots, using her staff to boost them or heal them according to their needs, and in exchange the pilots made sure that she was kept from any and all forms of physical harm. Angela would never admit it, but being able to soar into the air like that was something she'd never really done, and it was exhilarating.

 

___

 

Soon enough, the attack was once more pushed back, and the pilots landed one after the other, suits even more battered than when they’d arrived, lifting their visors as up they exchanged a few cheers. Once the last pilot landed, they all turned towards them. _Must be their leader,_ Angela thought. She gave everyone a once-over, relieved that none were too badly wounded, and left towards her quarters. In the Helix base, she had access to the necessary repair tools for her suit, even if she remained external to the company and was on a need-to-know basis. She was not allowed to assist to mission debriefs – not that she’d wanted to in any way – nor could she wander on her own inside the buildings beyond the med bay that was next to her quarters. Once the pilots and foot soldiers were done talking, she was expecting to see a few of them.

 

___

 

The wounded later came into the med bay, one after the other, polite and smiling after a job well done. Some had remnants of a former military training, and were slightly more gruff and stoic than the rest, but all obeyed her instructions and thanked her warmly once she was done. She’d saved the life of one of their own, so none of them gave her a hard time.

 

Eventually, the last one came in, as Angela was finishing up the report of the previous patient. She was busy with her work, and didn’t look up until an accented voice spoke up.

 

“When I was told that you were here, I didn’t believe it at first.” The voice said, and Angela stifled a sigh. People often had this reaction to her, which was understandable in the beginning, but which now started to feel expired.

“Yet here I am.” She simply answered, not letting her slight annoyance show.

“Yet here you are indeed. You haven’t changed.” The voice was warm, and Angela could feel a hint of familiarity in it, which surprised her. Usually, people talked to her with reverence, not friendliness.

“So I’m told, yes.” She sighed as she put the papers back into a file, turning her back to the soldier and putting it in a drawer. It was quiet for a moment.

“You… You don’t remember me, do you? That would explain why you’re so… Distant.” This time, Angela didn’t bother hiding her sigh. People seemed to expect it of her, that she’d recall every patient she’d ever had, every face she’d ever laid eyes upon. They failed to understand that it was an impossible feat, even for someone with as good a memory as hers. She started talking while turning around.

“I can’t remember every patient I’ve ever-” The rest of her sentence died on her lips.

 

The woman in front of her was tall, her skin tanned. Which wasn’t an unusual sight in Egypt, truly, and just as common was her stance, probably acquired from time spent in the army, like most personnel of Helix. What was indeed surprising, however, was the familiarity of the warm brown eyes that were looking at her with a slight hint of hurt, and of the tattoo on the right side of the soldier’s face.

 

Angela had known someone with one, what now seemed like an eternity ago. An Egyptian woman with a tattoo right under her left eye. A woman who had a child who was five years younger than her, a very valued companion as Angela grew up in Overwatch. Someone closer to her age, who allowed her to be the child that she should have been, instead of the life-saving doctor she had to be. A child who left early in her teenage years to enrol in the Egyptian army, hoping to get into Overwatch herself someday. A child who lost her mother while still training, and who never had a chance of seeing her dream come true. _Gott_ , Angela though, _that kid had to be 32 now_.

 

Angela’s next words caught in her throat. The woman in front of her waited patiently, looking at Angela with an undecipherable expression. When she managed to speak up, her voice was trembling.

“Fareeha?”


	2. It's a small world after all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha's story, and how fate can sometimes surprise you in the best ways.

A smile started appearing on the Egyptian woman’s lips upon seeing that Angela had, at least, not completely forgotten her. The last time they met, she had been but a teenager, having to almost look up at the Swiss doctor to say goodbye before getting on a plane to Egypt, where years in the army awaited her. She hadn’t had time to keep contact much, as both her and Angela were busy in their careers, only managing a few letters and emails. Military policy forbid pictures and video calls as a means to keep everyone safe. Ultimately, when the war had reached its apex, neither were able to maintain that habit, and the two young women fell out of touch.

 

The news of her mother’s death had threatened to crush Fareeha’s resolve, at first, but she had pushed on, a newfound willpower blooming from the need to honour Ana Amari’s legacy. Fareeha climbed – some would even say soared – through the ranks, her behaviour always dubbed nothing short of exemplary, and before long she was a much-respected figure among anyone who had heard of her. Quickly, she became an officer, and in due time people stopped talking to her about her mother, choosing instead to ask about her and her own feats.

 

___

 

She got the tattoo to honour her mother’s legacy, but it took her a while to understand what it truly meant. By the time she did, the war had been over, and Overwatch had been disbanded, taking her dreams with it.

 

___

 

The fall of Overwatch and the subsequent witch hunt had forced Fareeha to cut every tie she had left with anyone that used to be in the organisation. Her hopes to keep contact with Lena and Angela were crushed at the same time as her dreams to fight at their side. Nevertheless, Fareeha Amari persisted, just like she knew that they’d have wanted her to, shoving her longing for the people she’d grown up amongst in one side of her mind, alongside her regret at being forced to keep away.

 

Even now, her name still carried some Overwatch history, although the population’s anger had eventually died down, being seen together with former agents could have been bad, and Fareeha wanted to protect her career. It was all that she had left. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but a part of her also wanted to protect the former agents, and meeting with them would almost certainly attract some attention.

 

___

 

Once the war was completely over, the army went back to its usual tasks. Civil protection, escorts, guarding, but mostly waiting around for a reason to move. Fareeha quickly grew bored and annoyed at the lack of real action. There were still battles to be fought, but they weren’t much on the army’s radar.

 

She was given an honourary discharge, left the army, and immediately joined Helix Securities. They had been the ones who’d invented the Raptora suits, amongst other weapons, and they’d been asking for the heroic soldier to join them as soon as the war was over. Fareeha took the offer, soaring through the ranks again, this time in almost a literal way, and after a few years she finally learned what the udjat under her eye truly meant.

 

Fareeha Amari became captain of her own squadron and carried on, finding solace and even pride in her duty, knowing that, even if this wasn’t Overwatch, it wasn’t nothing. She was in the field, which was where she always wanted to be, and she was protecting the innocent as well as her team.

 

While she was deployed on yet another mission, someone let her know that the famous Mercy was staying over at one of Helix’s facilities, and her heart thumped in her chest. After the call ended, she made a few of her own, using her authority and the respect people had for her to ensure her long-lost friend’s comfort. She didn’t know where Angela was exactly, and she would not ask, but she would still do what was in her power to make sure that the doctor was treated well.

 

___

 

She’d just finished a mission when they were called by another facility. It had suffered increasing attacks from various terrorist groups, and its higher-ups required some assistance in taking care of the threat. Fareeha checked with her team that they were all willing and ready to lend a hand, even with some damaged equipment, and they were on their way. The repairs would be made there.

 

While communicating with the facility, one thing made Fareeha’s breath catch in her throat. Helix told her that Mercy was staying with them for the time being. In the facility she was herself going to. The woman’s experience in the field meant that she was already used to handling dangerous situations, and she was there to tend to the civilians of the town the facility was at the border of. And Fareeha was in a transport headed right for her.

 

___

 

The soldier hadn’t forgotten the blonde-haired doctor who watched her grow and tended to her scrapes and bruises while her mum was away. Neither had she forgotten the sadness that would shine in her eyes when she thought that no one was looking. But Fareeha knew how and when to look, and she always made sure to do something that would restore some happiness in Angela’s eyes whenever it happened.

 

One thing that she had been particularly sad about when she left was the fact that she had to leave the young doctor behind, with almost no one her age left to keep her company. She had made Lena promise to look after her. The British woman was more than happy to oblige, understanding how much Angela’s happiness mattered to Fareeha, probably even more than Fareeha herself did at the time.

 

As the years went by, the Egyptian started to realise how much people underestimated Lena. Even she had been guilty of it, attributing Lena’s carefree and loudly happy attitude to her youth.

 

Now, when she thought back on these moments, she realised that Lena hadn’t agreed just because Fareeha and Angela were like the older sisters she never had, but also because Lena could understand the sadness Angela felt better than most. The small English woman was much more perceptive and clever than the world gave her credit for. If they ever met again, Fareeha would try to see it more, and let Lena know that she could.

 

In the time she’d been alone, she also realised that she never really tried to look into Tracer’s eyes the same way that she did for Angela, convinced as she was as a teenager that Lena was too happy to feel something that dark and not let it show or talk about it. It was only when she’d experienced how people acted after having been in combat, or through trauma in general, that she finally knew that Lena wasn’t constantly okay and happy, but that she had just gotten extremely good at hiding it from everyone. Instead, the girl was making a constant effort to be happy because she was surrounded by her chosen family and wanted to share the good around. Lena understood how much that was needed.

 

___

 

That day, many years later, Fareeha saw the Valkyrie suit in action again, this time during a real fight and not training. As she ascended to defend the rest of her team when one of them got shot down, she caught the golden beam of the caduceus staff in the corner of her eye, and soon enough Tariq – one of the people she’d worked with for the longest – was back online and nearly screaming in Arabic into his comms relay about how that must have been magic.

 

Afterwards, Angela had – unknowingly of who she was – come to her and boosted her, and she could only agree. The feeling was almost as dizzying as soaring through the sky at high speed.

 

Fareeha had made sure to be the last to come into the medbay, both because she wanted to ensure the safety of her people firsh, to know that they were alright before she went to be healed herself, and so that there wouldn’t be anyone to bother them while they talked. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things she wanted to say, but she first settled for the mundane platitudes old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years were meant to exchange.

 

___

 

She hadn’t expected Angela to not recognise her. She thought that it would have been an immediate reaction, as if Angela could feel like her that destiny seemed to have given them a push to meet again after all this time, but Angela had reacted to her words and voice as if to a stranger, and Fareeha hadn’t managed to hide her sadness at that fact. She’d gotten her hopes up and that seemingly had been a mistake. But then, Angela had looked up and, slowly but surely, Fareeha had seen recognition make its way into the sky-blue eyes. When the doctor had said her name, Fareeha’s heart threatened to jump out of her chest with joy, although she maintained a relaxed appearance as to not freak the other woman out.

 

“Hello, Angela.” She answered, allowing herself a small but warm smile, nodding her head slightly at the smaller woman still standing at a distance.


	3. Honest Foundations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha and Angela catch up, both with each other's stories and with their own feelings.

“You… You’ve grown. It’s been a while.” Angela managed to utter, her voice still unstable. Fareeha chuckled.

“I have, yes.” She was indeed now standing taller than Angela, which hadn’t been the case the last time they’d seen each other in person. “You haven’t though, I meant it before. You look exactly like I remembered you.” She added, ducking her head slightly to hide the small blush that was creeping up its way to her cheeks, thankful for her skin tone that helped conceal it as well. Angela’s paler skin, however, made it harder for her to do the same.

“You’re too kind.” A pause. “How… How have you been?” The question felt almost alien, clumsy, impossible to answer.

 

There were so many things to say. Apologies and stories, memories of times long gone, of grieving and trying to heal, of missing and learning to live without, and so much more in between. The usually simple question begged an answer that was way too long for either woman to fully answer in a few sentences. Even hours felt too short to tell everything that needed to be told. Still, Fareeha tried.

 

“Alright, mostly. I was excited when I joined the army at first, even though I missed everyone back at Overwatch. Then the excitement left as time went on, and was replaced by determination. With a family like mine, failing would have stuck out like a very sore thumb. That stayed, even though I was sometimes afraid. Once the war was over, I was… Relieved, but also sad. I'd lost people, and it wasn't as thrilling a victory as Reinhardt made his stories sound. People had been hurt and died, on both sides. It was hard to celebrate that.  And my mother..." She paused with a sigh. "Overwatch was disbanded shortly after that. I'd more or less proven myself, but I never did join you and everyone. The army discharged me, and I was disoriented, but Helix offered me a job, and I’m glad I took it. This might be second best to what I had dreamt of as a child, but it’s still good. I'm still protecting the innocent. What about you?” The question had been asked with honest curiosity, but it took Angela some time before she could answer.

“I… Well, I guess that we felt the same way during and shortly after the war. When Overwatch fell is when it differs. Unlike the rest, I was left alone. I mean, I couldn’t see anyone again to protect them and myself, but I wasn’t hurt. In the first few months, the survivor’s guilt was awful. But I kept working, since I could, and I guess that now is the most normal and okay that I can get. I’m still doing what I’ve always wanted to do, and the media leaves me alone. I can't really ask for more than that.”

 

Fareeha looked into Angela’s eyes, and spotted the same kind of sadness that she used to so easily recognise what seemed like a lifetime ago. She stepped forward and slowly raised a hand, directing it towards Angela’s shoulder, giving her plenty of time to escape the contact should she want to. When she made no move to do so, Fareeha gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, her brown eyes warm and reassuring.

 

“So many people wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you, Angela. You even saved Saleh’s life today, and I can’t tell you how thankful I am for that. I’ve known him for years, and if it hadn’t been for you today, I’m not sure he’d still be alive right now.” A pause, and a warm chuckle. “Even though I probably lost some of my hearing as soon as he was back in the sky. He was… Very impressed. And very loud about it.” She added with an exaggerated wince. Angela laughed softly, and Fareeha saw some of the sadness dissipate. She almost fist pumped the air. _Still got it,_ she thought to herself.

 

Angela seemed to consider something for a moment, battling with inner thoughts that she wasn’t sure she should voice out loud or not. But Fareeha had been honest with her ever since she walked into her office, choosing to face her, to admit how she’d been feeling, to comfort her when she showed the first signs of sadness. It was time for Angela to take a step forward, now. A part of her brain wanted to push Fareeha away, whispering self-deprecating thoughts and begging her to lie, but one look into her old friend’s earnest eyes gave her the resolve she needed to quiet that voice, and for the first time since Overwatch’s disbanding, Angela Ziegler allowed herself to be fully honest about her emotions.

 

* * *

 

 

She stepped forward, into Fareeha’s personal space, and the taller woman quickly understood. Angela felt two strong arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her into an open and reassuring embrace. Fareeha’s immediate kindness and acceptance broke the floodgates, and tears welled up in Angela’s eyes. She’d spent years alone, her old friends dead or forbidden from any kind of contact, and now there she was with one of them who didn’t even hesitate to open up to her. One of them who had nothing but kindness for her, no matter how long it had been. Who didn't blame her for anything, any loss, as opposed to her own personal thoughts and guilt.

 

She held on tightly to Fareeha’s shirt, crumpling the light fabric in shaky hands, and hid her face against her. Fareeha let her, rubbing calming circles on her back, holding her steady as sobs shook her whole body. She whispered little nothings into her hair, in English at first, then reverting to her more natural Arabic. She understood what it was like. She had to learn to control her own emotions when she was very young, but she'd also always dealt with them as soon as she could. On the other hand, Angela had had a tendency since the first time Fareeha had met her, to try to ignore them rather than accept them. And being overwhelmed was an unfortunate consequence of that strategy.

 

After the fall of Overwatch, Fareeha had to cut ties, but she had made friends where she was, and therefore she never was completely alone. Angela, however, didn’t. When the PETRAS Acts came in, she lost everything and everyone she’d known for nearly her entire life. Fareeha couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely and exhausting a life like that must have been.

 

Even after all that, Angela had been selfless enough to sacrifice a rest she’d more than earned to protect and save the very same people who were so quick to spit venom at what had become her family. She'd spent years waking up every day in uncomfortable beds, sleep-deprived and most likely often battered and bruised or at the very least sore, in remote places everywhere but never home, and where everyone expected her to be this smiling, angelic miracle worker. Always busy, and always alone. It was hard to imagine how hard it must have been.

 

* * *

 

 

Fareeha held Angela as the emotions she’d so carefully pushed back all these years came rushing back at her, all at the same time. They shook her body and staggered her breathing, but, after some time, they started to subside. An exhausted kind of calm started washing over the blonde woman. She pulled back a little, letting go of Fareeha’s now-damp sports T-shirt, and was about to stammer an endless stream of apologies, but Fareeha felt them coming, and stopped Angela before she could even start with a simple hand gesture. Her other arm remained wrapped around Angela’s shoulders, and she reached out to grab some tissues from a box at the corner of Angela’s desk. Angela grabbed a couple, tossing them in the trash once she was done, and led Fareeha through the medbay and into her own quarters. They sat down, Angela on her bed and Fareeha on a nearby chair, letting go of the doctor's shoulder, who immediately missed the contact.

 

“Do you have somewhere to be tomorrow?” Angela asked. Fareeha shook her head.

“No, nowhere. We debriefed the last mission in the transport, and I took care of debriefing the attack while waiting for my turn in the medbay. Wasn’t much to say, really. ...What?” She asked after a pause, upon seeing Angela jumping back on her feet when she had finished the last sentence.

“The medbay! I completely forgot! You came so I could see to your remaining wounds!” Angela left the room to grab supplies from the medbay, and Fareeha shrugged. Speaking a little louder now that Angela was in another room.

“Well, I’m not that wounded, just a couple scratches. These guys weren’t exactly crack shots, had to deal with both ground and airborne moving targets, and I’m the best Raptora pilot around. I wouldn’t have even bothered showing up to the medbay if it weren’t because I wanted to see you.” Angela blushed, but also walked back in and shot a glare at Fareeha before laying down the equipment she’d taken with her, mumbling something that sounded like “stubborn soldiers”, "actual risks", and “all the same”.

 

Luckily for Angela, her quarters were as clean and brightly lit as the medbay itself, and she saw no problem in treating Fareeha there. She was relieved and pleasantly surprised to see that The soldier hadn’t been lying when talking about her wounds, which Fareeha explained with a simple and professional: “Being honest to your medic about any kind of harm sustained, physical or mental, is the only way to achieve maximum efficiency for both parties in any type of scenario.”

 

Once Angela was satisfied with how she had tended to Fareeha’s wounds, she sat back down, and looked into her attentive eyes feeling slightly nervous at what she was about to reveal.

 

“Fareeha, there’s something you need to know about Overwatch…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the unreliable update schedule, I tend to be either drowning in work, unable to come up with ideas, or too distracted to post. I'll try to be better.


	4. Repairs And Recall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First instalment of Lena's story, her struggles post-recall, and her reaction to Winston's message.

Lena adjusted the hood of her oversized sweater as she tried to keep away from the pouring rain flooding London. In the large front pocket, she was holding tightly onto a small present that she’d bought for Emily earlier in the day, unbeknownst to her. She knew the redhead would love it, and had to hold back a small, joyous giggle at imagining the smile on her girlfriend’s lips. She clutched the small package in her hands, making sure it’s still there, and broke into a half-jog to avoid getting too drenched on the way home.

 

She knew that she could easily get there faster – and stay drier – by blinking, but the neighbourhood she was in right now wasn’t on her “trustworthy” list, and so she decided against it. Her work boots hit the pavement at every step, sending droplets of water flying at a steady rhythm.

 

* * *

 

 

Unlike nearly everyone else, Lena had tried. When Overwatch fell under scrutiny, she tried her best to rectify things, to clear the air, to show that - even if there rumors turned out to be true - not everyone was an enemy. She went so far as to book an appointment with Gabriel Reyes, the head of Blackwatch, to try to get things back on track, but eventually it was to no avail and the only place she’d ever been able to call home as a teenager crumbled in front of her, her family ripped apart, unable to see each other anymore. The parental figures she grew up with were, for a majority, dead. She then attempted to do some damage control, calling her former friends, trying to keep contact, to hold them together, but it nearly ripped her at the seams. None of them truly picked up, except for some to tell her to stop calling and go away. Disappear.

 

Lena had been heartbroken for months, her mind state spiralling down like it did after the Slipstream incident, her loneliness becoming nearly unbearable. She had disappeared before, against her will back then as well. This felt way too familiar. But Lena Oxton survived, in great part thanks to the only person from her past that she could still stay with after all that happened: her girlfriend, Emily.

She’d never mentioned Emily when she was in Overwatch. With the war going on, and the omnics’ ability to hack into computers and security cameras, it was heavily discouraged to have anything that could link agents to civilian loved ones. When Overwatch was disbanded, Emily was the only person left that Lena could go to.

 

* * *

 

 

She didn’t even try, at first, too afraid that people’s ire would tail her and hurt the girl she loved. She really did try to disappear. But Emily wasn’t going to let that happen. The redhead was clever and strong-willed, was an amazing planner, and the people around King’s Row liked her. They also liked Lena, who was always willing to help them with any task when she was visiting, and when Emily asked around to test the waters, none of them were truly willing to hurt the brunette, nor did they want to bother with calling the police and dealing with the aftermath. Emily could also be right scary when it was about the people she loved. With that ensured, she threw herself into a manhunt to find her girlfriend, knowing Lena well enough to be the first – and only – one to find her. After Emily brought her girlfriend home and helped her build herself back up, no one seemed to spot a blue streak anywhere in London, let alone the world, and Lena started to be allowed to exist again.

 

* * *

 

 

Lena had tried to keep the promise she'd made to Fareeha, even after the PETRAS acts, but Angela explicitly asked her to stop trying to contact her. Lena had been jealous of the doctor’s impervious status, at first, but then she too experienced the solitude and the survivor’s guilt, and she just felt sorry and left the Swiss woman alone. The young brit tried to reach out to Fareeha as well, but when she did, it was one of her superiors who picked up. They recognised her accent, and told her that Fareeha couldn’t pick up a call from a former Overwatch member. It would certainly damage her career beyond repair. They had hung up after that, and the last that Lena ever heard from Fareeha was a small voicemail confirming what Lena had been told already and apologising, then nothing. For the first time since she had lost her home, never to come back again, Lena truly felt alone. Something broke in her.

 

* * *

 

 

Emily found her a couple of weeks later, wandering around the streets she used to live in, feeling like was no place left for her in the world. Her clothes were tattered and grimy, her chronal device covered in black duct tape to hide its glow. She was wearing a wet and dirty old jacket over it to better cover the contraption. Emily quickly got her out of it the second she’d found her, switching it for her own sweater once Lena allowed the redhead to touch her, past the tears and pain and shame. It hadn’t been easy. Lena had pushed her hands away at first, barely managing to speak, too ashamed to let her girlfriend approach her. But after a couple of minutes (and unrelenting patience on Emily’s part), Lena gave in, breaking down and hiding into her kneeling girlfriend’s chest. She’d let herself be helped afterwards, and soon enough she was back into the now-strange familiarity of their shared home.

 

Emily fought against Lena’s nightmares, which seemed to come regardless of whether the former pilot was asleep or not. She remained strong and stalwart against any destructive thoughts, worries, and shame that came Lena’s way, quickly figuring out what attitude the moment called for. She spoke to Lena when she was spiralling, held her when she found her curled up in a corner and shaking, tears streaming down her face, sat next to her when Lena couldn’t bear the contact of another body but still needed a presence, and made it her mission to lay extra close to her at night so she wouldn’t feel so alone. She knew that, somewhere deep inside, the Lena she knew still existed.

 

It was just a matter of healing the pain.

 

* * *

 

 

And, after a while, it worked. Lena started smiling again. Emily herself wouldn’t be able to tell if the tears that fell from her eyes when she heard one of Lena’s terrible puns - after months of near-complete silence aside from the occasional shaky attempt at conversation or an explanation of what she was feeling - came from embarrassment or from relief. Slowly but surely, Lena built herself back up, Emily always at her side to brace her and kiss better the wounds left on her heart.

 

Lena had gotten back to her former self, and she felt like something was missing. She was in hiding, still, and couldn't be a hero anymore, but she wanted to. She _needed_ to. She started looking for a job in the neighbourhood, asking their allies if there was anything available. Luckily, there always were a few things to do, odd jobs here and there that people were all too willing to give her some money for. They remembered the old Tracer, and the light she shed when everything looked too dark and grim, and this was a covert way for them to give something back. If one asked them about it, though, that wouldn’t be the answer. They would just find something to say about “every job being worth payment”, a little too loud to truly be believable, but then no one in the neighbourhood wanted to question things in the first place, so it was all good.

 

* * *

 

 

After a while, Lena allowed herself to go back further into London, her signature hair hidden under a baseball cap, and one day she found an ad for a job at a small repair shop, which she went for.

 

It wasn’t as profitable as Emily’s job, but it was something. And at least Lena could feel like she was doing her part, even just a little, instead of simply depending on Emily to care for the both of them. Emily didn’t mind being the only breadwinner, she’d said so plenty of times, but Lena did, having had to fend for herself for so long, and so Emily didn’t push the issue further. Lena got her nigh-unbreakable will to do good back.

 

She’d been putting her tips in a separate jar ever since she started her job, adding to it the money that the people from her neighbourhood would give her as thanks for her help, and letting Emily handle her actual salary. She was the better banker. Now, the jar was rather well-filled, and Lena emptied it on a nice, meaningful present for her girlfriend. She’d gone to a jewellery that she stopped people from robbing a few weeks back, and bought a simple but beautiful golden necklace with an intricate pendant. The owners were either too thankful to notice that she’d used her powers to stop the robbers, or simply didn’t care, and they lowered the price of the item as thanks.

 

* * *

 

 

Lena finally got to the familiar houses that ran along King’s row and picked up the pace, allowing herself to blink forward a couple times, and ran into her building just as the rain turned into a full-on downpour. She climbed the stairs at an Olympic pace, reaching her floor out of breath, and walked in through the front door with a grin etched on her face. The smell of home cooking immediately filled her nostrils. Emily was busy in the kitchen, making dinner, and sent Lena a greeting over her shoulder before peering back down into the pan she was holding. The brunette stood on her tiptoes to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek, wrapping her arms around her waist, and looked appreciatively down, humming in anticipation.

 

“That looks fantastic, luv! Smells so, too!” She exclaimed, her mouth watering already. Emily chuckled and leaned into the embrace.

“Thanks, I’m trying out something new. Long day at work?” She asked, and Lena hummed noncommittally.

“Eh, routine’s called a routine for a reason. You?”

“Had to deal with a lot of paperwork, but it’s not that unusual. You should change out of that sweater, though. Don’t catch pneumonia on me.” She added with a smirk and a sideways glance.

 

Lena laughed, and let go to walk into the bedroom. Emily nearly sighed at the lost contact, but soon enough Lena came back to her former spot, now wearing dry sweatpants and a t-shirt under her accelerator, the warmth of the apartment making a sweater unnecessary. In her pocket, the weight of the necklace box made her feel giddy, and she turned her girlfriend around once she set the pan down, backing her into a counter and kissing her lovingly. Emily let out a small surprised squeal, before kissing the brunette back. Once they broke the kiss, Emily finished up the dinner with a laugh and a spring in her step, gesturing to Lena to set the table while she brought the food there.

 

The dinner was amazing, and Lena made sure to say so a good few times. Once they were done, she put the dishes in the sink while Emily waited for her on the couch, sitting next to her, the box still in her pocket. Lena stammered a bit before biting the bullet.

 

“Today’s the anniversary of the day we met.” She stated, looking at her hands, clasped together in her lap. She nervously bounced her leg up and down, and Emily smiled. She didn’t make a move to stop Lena, though, knowing that she almost always needed to move or fidget, especially when sitting down.

“It is. Also known as the day you stormed in to save me and I fell irreversibly in love with you.” Emily was smirking, her voice slightly flirty. Lena’s face turned bright red.

“Well, ah… S’not like the feeling isn’t mutual, luv. I’m still not sure how I managed to get my catchphrase out when I saw you, you know. With how you took my breath away an' all.” She looked up at her girlfriend, a shy smile on her lips, her ears burning. Emily laughed softly, and Lena could feel herself fall in love all over again.

“Well, I’m glad you did, it was awesome.” Emily leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Lena’s lips.

“Me too.” Lena’s voice was barely above a whisper, and she cleared her throat before continuing. “Well, I thought that I wanted to do something special. When Overwatch fell…” She hesitated, the subject still sore. Emily laid a hand on her thigh, looking into the brunette’s eyes.

“You don’t have to talk about it, you know?”

“No, no, I wasn’t going to go into a long speech, I just wanted to say: When Overwatch fell, I lost myself, but you never gave up on me. You found me, and you were patient enough to help me fix myself, no matter what or how long it took. And I wanted you to know that I… I really appreciate it. The world might always need more heroes, no matter whether it wants them or not, but you’re the kind of hero that I needed. That I still need. So, thank you.” A pause. “I got you this before coming home today. I hope you like it.” Lena added while taking the box out of her pocket and handing it over to Emily.

 

When she opened the box, Emily’s breath caught in her throat, and for a few seconds she was too stunned to talk. When she did, it came out as a stammered “Of course I do, thank you, it’s beautiful!” and a clearer “I love you.” She held the box tightly in her hands, emotional at the gesture of affection.

 

Lena leaned over, resting her forehead on Emily’s, whispering “I love you too.” The box was put on the coffee table before the couple exchanged a tender but meaningful kiss. Once they broke apart, Emily let Lena put the necklace on her. Emily's present was on the way, it would get there tomorrow afternoon, and Lena already couldn't wait.

 

They were snuggling in the couch, lights dim or turned off and watching a movie, until Lena’s phone lit up bright blue. The cobalt colour was already unmistakable, even before Lena picked it up and saw Overwatch’s logo on it, right above “Emergency transmission” in bold, red letters and all caps. She glanced at Emily, who squeezed the arm she had around Lena’s waist in support, before watching the video message.

 

It was Winston. He was calling any agent who received the video back to Watchpoint: Gibraltar in hopes of reforming Overwatch.

 

The world needed them.

 

Lena’s heart jumped, hopes and dream she thought forgotten rising back to the surface, their fire burning anew. She looked at Emily, who already realised what was going to happen. Overwatch had been everything to Lena. She’d seen what losing it had done to her.

 

* * *

 

 

Emily knew that, if she asked, Lena would probably refuse the recall. A part of her wanted to, because if there was one thing that Emily knew about, it was the danger of such a choice. But Lena’s reaction at the recall, the way her eyes had lit up and she practically jumped on her feet as soon as she realised what Winston’s words meant, the difference in the way she moved about whenever Lena was able to do some good and help someone, all these reasons spoke against her fears. Lena would try her best to always come home to her. Ultimately, it was all that she could promise anyways.

 

So, Emily nodded, knowing that Lena had already made her decision, and only needed her support.

 

Lena grabbed her phone, locking the fingers of her free hand between her girlfriend’s, and called Winston.

 

“Winston? Is that you, luv? It’s been too long!”


	5. Another Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily makes the hard choice to let Lena go, no matter how she feels about it.

Emily poured Lena and herself another cup of hot tea as Lena finally hung up her phone.

 

She could see the young woman almost vibrating with excitement, the large beam on her face bearing witness to how much love she still held for the disappeared organisation.

 

Winston had been incredibly happy to hear from her, and the pair had launched in a high-speed catch-up conversation that Emily could only understand because she was used to Lena’s lightning-fast speech whenever it came to subjects she was passionate about. They’d discussed how there were doing, what they did after the fall (without going into too many details), asking each other if they’d kept contact with anyone (which both answered with a sad “no” that earned Lena a gentle, supportive shoulder squeeze from her girlfriend), Winston inquiring about the chronal accelerator, and then putting together a plan of action. Lena was to hitchhike on a cargo train that would cross under the sea into France, then straight south to the southern Spanish coast. From there, she’d be able to catch any boat possible that was passing on or by the island, and hike up to the “abandoned” watchpoint, where Winston would be waiting with freshly cleaned personal quarters and a lot more work to be done, both inside the base to get it entirely back to a clean and working state, and then outside with – hopefully – more agents that would join as time went on, to start protecting the world again.

 

Lena took the cup gratefully, and Emily could swear that it was the only thing keeping her from jumping up everywhere around the apartment. Lena looked like she was still processing all the new information and hope she’d been given, and so Emily left her alone for a while, going inside their bedroom. Outside she could hear the muffled sounds of Lena talking to herself and finally starting to take it all in, if the clunk of a cup being set down and excited giggles followed by quick footsteps interrupted by jumps were any indication.

 

Emily sighed, staring at their large bed, and closed her eyes for an instant.

 

* * *

 

 

She could understand that this was something Lena had always been dreaming of. Being with Overwatch was a dream come true when she started, having it taken away had been devastating, and now that it had apparently returned, there would be no way to keep her girlfriend from getting back to it, but Emily also understood the other side of the equation.

 

The recall meant that Lena would be gone. It meant that Emily would have to spend her days alone again, with no idea of where the other woman was, of what she was doing, or even of whether or not she was okay. Their secret status could even mean that Emily wouldn’t even be told if Lena died, and she knew that it was a very likely risk, as it always had been whenever she left on missions. Tears welled up behind her lids, and she let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She didn’t want to cry, not then, not when Lena was so happy. She didn’t want to make this amazing day bad in any way.

Her fingers brushed against the new necklace around her throat, then swiped at the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. If she started, she wouldn’t stop.

 

Emily grabbed a backpack and started putting some of Lena’s clothes in it, the echoes of the brunette’s joy echoing down the dimly lit room.

 

* * *

 

 

Lena walked in the room a few minutes later, and her eyes widened at seeing the almost-completed pack. Emily turned around and explained, very careful not to let her voice waver:

 

“Figured you would want to leave for Gibraltar as fast as possible. I didn’t pack you anything fancy, just a few changes of clothes and the sports ones you always wear. I remember that you used to brag about how well-furnished the watchpoint’s gym was, and how much you loved running on the beach as the sun was rising. Take out a few cobwebs, and I’m sure you’ll love it just as much now as you did then.”

 

Lena was speechless, and Emily rambled on, scared of what she would feel if the silence dragged on for too long.

 

“Since you’re not really going to use the normal way of getting there, you’ll want to travel light, so I don’t think you should use a bag that’s bigger than this. Plus, knowing you, you still have stuff in your locker there. And Overwatch has always had extra tracksuits and the like, so you’ll have plenty to wear there. It’s just missing some food and water and you’ll be set for-” Emily was interrupted by Lena’s lips on hers.

 

She leaned into the kiss more than reason should allow, all too aware that this would be one of her lasts for a long time, and felt the familiar tension of tears threatening to spring out. She took a step back and a steadying breath. Lena stepped closer, slipping her hands around Emily’s waist. The redhead leaned her forehead against the smaller woman’s, trying to imprint those moments in her memory with as much precision as she could. The warmth of Lena’s hands, fingers rubbing soothing circles on her lower back, the familiar bulge of her accelerator against her, the messy strands of unruly brown hair brushing against her cheekbones, their steady breaths and hearts beating in unison.

 

Lena was perceptive. She could feel Emily’s tension and sadness, her reluctance at saying goodbye the same way she had to when Overwatch was still official. It was not easy, and the brunette knew that she would miss her girlfriend once the buzz of the news and the excitement at seeing Winston again, working once more for the organisation she was ready to devote her life to, she knew how she would feel once all of that would start to fade. But right now, all she wanted was to be able to teleport right into Watchpoint: Gibraltar and get back to saving lives and doing some good in the world.

 

So she let Emily have this moment, which didn’t last for much longer, before both pulled back and Lena started to mentally finish planning her journey, while her red-haired girlfriend finished her backpack, leaving the bedroom stuffy with heavy emotions for the breeze blowing in through a window of the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, before the sun rose above the murky streets of London, Lena was at the train station, blinking around stealthily before picking a carriage and ducking inside it, right after security was done checking it.

 

When the sun creeped through the King’s Row apartment’s windows, kissing Emily’s cheek in lieu of Lena’s lips, the train was already far away, zipping down towards Lena’s calling. Emily listened to the sounds of the city waking up, staring at the ceilling where a familiar blue light was missing.

 

Then, and only then, did Emily allow the tears to run free.


	6. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little tidbit of Tracer-centric story that happens after she leaves for Gibraltar. I'll immediately post another chapter at the same time as this one, because this is short. Nonetheless, enjoy!

The first few weeks in Gibraltar had been boring. There was no other word for it, truly. Lena had gotten there without trouble, and spent minutes hugging the gigantic gorilla, finding the comfort she always had in his deep voice and warm embrace, but then they both decided to get to work, and the first few weeks had been just that. They’d started deep-cleaning the entire base, reorganising and inventorying all they had left, restocking things to the best of their abilities, repairing the tech that had broken down (Tracer was very happy to find that Overwatch’s planes were untouched and still in pristine state), and making great plans for the future.

 

Both soon realised that said plans would have to be reworked, since no one was apparently coming back. Lena slid right back into her “moral support” role, as she maintained the faith that people just needed more time and a better incentive, to fight against Winston’s waves of defeatism.

 

They got a call a couple of days later, from one very happy (and just as loud as they recalled, if not louder) Reinhardt, who finally managed to get close to enough civilisation to recharge his phone and get service. He’d been travelling around the German countryside ever since Overwatch fell, completely off anyone’s radar. Now he spent his time still righting wrongs everywhere he could, and was ready to get back in action if someone could come pick him up, him and a special new recruit he called his squire. No sooner had he asked that Tracer was in a plane flying down to the Schwarzwald, jumping into the arms of the man, and bringing him back to what both of them were already calling “home”. Him and said new squire, Brigitte. Torbjörn's daughter had grown up a lot since they'd last met, and Lena was happy to see another member of her family again. None of the trio could ever stop talking for the whole duration of the flight, and even hours on end after they'd reached the base.

 

It was warm, it was homely and, as small as it might be, it was something they needed. It was family.

 

 


	7. Co-Workers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha and Angela finish their much-needed talk, and a plan starts forming.

“… And that’s why I decided to ignore the recall. I don’t even know how Winston managed to do it, but I don’t think it’s safe for anyone to put their uniform back on. I got lucky. I don’t think anyone else could. Or should, for that matter."

 

Fareeha was silent for a few minutes, processing the information. She appreciated Angela’s honesty. After all, she definitely wasn’t privy to that kind of knowledge, and the doctor knew how much Fareeha had wanted to join Overwatch when it was still a legitimate organisation. She could have kept it from her, maybe even should have. It was still dangerous, after all. Instead, she’d decided that Fareeha was worth the truth, regardless of the fact that they’d just found each other again only a few hours ago. She nodded.

 

“I understand your choice. If I had known about it, I would have made the same. I joined Helix after leaving the army because I wanted to keep protecting innocent people, and working for justice. Being almost completely alone and having to avoid attention would have made it much harder. Would _make it_ much harder, if either of us were to accept that sort of proposal.” A pause. “Still, it’s easier for me. I only knew them as a child and teenager, and it wasn’t long into these teenage years before I left for Egypt. You must miss them harder than I ever could, you’ve lived more things at their side than I have.” Fareeha finished, and Angela could hear the regret behind these simple-sounding words.

“They missed you, when you were gone. Lena, especially. She almost never left my side the first week, I still don’t really understand why. Reinhardt always spoke of how you were probably crushing the competition anytime he was able to, and Lena would cheer loudly. I think she was trying really hard, like she always did, to keep spirits up. Even mine."

 

Fareeha chuckled and bowed her head.

 

“The never leaving is my fault, truly. I made her promise to look after you. Guess it was her way to do so. And I did crush it, by the by. Training with Jack before leaving gave me a big head start.” She proudly straightened up, and Angela laughed quietly, a smirk curling her lips.

“I should have guessed you had something to do with it. It’s very you.” Angela hesitated before continuing. “Ana didn’t speak much about it, but she always listened when Reinhardt and Lena would make up stories about your exploits. The rest would watch them go on and on, with their grandiose theatrics, but I watched her. She was proud of you, even if she tried to hide it.”

 

The room became uncomfortably silent.

 

Fareeha’s mother had always been an uncomfortable subject, Angela knew as much. However, she also knew that Fareeha’s loss had been hard, and Ana’s pride was visible whenever the others looked the other way. Just like the recall, Fareeha deserved to know the truth. The Egyptian woman sighed.

 

“It’s hard to know what my mother would think of who I’ve become, but I am proud of it, at least. That’s something. We share the same ideals, too. She died as a soldier, protecting the innocent, and even if it took me time to understand her as much as I do now, I’ll do the same. If I have to be honest, though, I’m glad you didn’t answer Winston’s call.”

“How so?”

“You said it yourself, you’re more efficient here. Also, if you had, we’d never have met again. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you. And one person of my team could be dead. So, as selfish as it might sound, you not going back there has given me a lot of good things.”

 

Angela blushed almost as hard as Fareeha did, although their difference in skin tones made it easier for Fareeha to hide it. The doctor nudged the other woman’s shoulder with hers.

 

“Well, I definitely don’t regret not leaving either. I’m happy I found you again.” Angela finished in a whisper.

 

* * *

 

 

Fareeha smiled. Seeing Angela again had been a blast from the past, but somehow it wasn’t as painful as she’d imagined it to be. The two women had grown up and changed, away from each other, with no way to know how the other was faring nor who they were each becoming. Yet, they both still seemed to fit together. Fareeha was now taller than her, and went from a slightly scrawny teenager to a strong yet elegant woman, and Angela had fully forgone her hesitant and discrete younger self and had become graceful and decided. The two sat there for a while, in comfortable silence, enjoying the company, before Angela spoke up again.

 

“Working with you and your team today was unlike anything I’d done before. I’ve never flown like that, the Valkyrie’s suit flying ability isn’t constant. But with the caduceus beams, I could hook onto you or them, and there was nothing holding me down. It was nice.”

 

There was a moment of quiet, ideas blooming in the shared company, under the warm afternoon sun filtering in through the windows. 

 

“Well, if you’d like, I could take you out flying. I have some plans for the Raptora that I’ll need to test out, and you could come along. … That is, if you would like to stay of course. I wouldn’t dare keep you from leaving, if that’s what you want.” Fareeha had added that last part in a softer voice, failing to conceal the sadness that the idea caused her. She cleared her throat in an attempt to hide it, and Angela’s heart tightened in her chest.

 

Fareeha didn’t want her to leave. She was hoping Angela would stay. She even wanted to take her _flying_! And, if Angela was honest with herself, she didn’t really want to leave either. They’d found each other through what could perhaps be called destiny, Angela refusing to answer the recall and Fareeha taking up the new mission even though her and her team needed rest.

 

The doctor had missed having someone with her who could understand, someone with whom she shared history, with whom she could reminisce on happier days, when her family was intact. Fareeha had made it obvious that Angela was wanted there. Not needed, but wanted. Helix had competent doctors, and Angela was there to protect the population more than anything, yet Fareeha had asked her to stay, because she wanted her to, for who she was and not for what she could do. Even if the soldier was hoping that Angela would accept to stay, she had also made sure to tell her that leaving was a possibility, too. Angela could go away and close the door, if so was her wish, and none would stop her from doing so.

 

Angela realised that she’d already made her choice.

 

Leaving wasn’t an option. She wanted to fly with Fareeha. Look after her like she used to when they were younger, daydreaming about those future days when they would work together, that were now a possible reality. She could think back on some old Overwatch stories and share the memories with someone who knew the real her, not just the golden angel that everyone else saw.

 

No, Angela didn’t want to leave. So she didn’t.

 

Instead, she laid a hand on Fareeha’s, and smiled, looking into her eyes.

 

“I’ll stay.”

 

Fareeha’s smile threatened to blind her.


	8. Plans Cancelled And Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The small team that answered the recall fall into a routine with each other, but Lena's own plan shake up what they wanted to do, and even Emily couldn't see it coming. But what does she have in mind?

Soon enough, the Gibraltar Musketeers (nickname courtesy of Lena) had fallen into a comfortable and efficient routine, waking up early in the morning to eat breakfast and spend the rest of the morning training, cleaning up areas of the watchpoint, and keeping an eye on their monitors. That was, when they weren’t moving around or eating their lunch (at wildly different times depending on their habits and what they were doing). In the evening, they would make sure to eat dinner together, discussing various topics, before watching a movie or playing games. Sometimes, they would forego fun for some more training, Tracer and Reinhardt easily falling into old habits, and incorporating Brigitte in their old routines, as well as making up new ones.

 

It was only a duo-training, as it were, since Winston would mostly monitor them and rarely join in. Lena appointed herself head of the endurance training, and of course Reinhardt took care of the muscular workouts. Winston had already given them a couple of missions, basic things like getting some better parts for the technical equipment around, upgrades for Athena, or basic monitoring of important Targets, all in secret and in non-monitored places.

 

Once the rush of getting everything in the base back to normal was over, they found themselves left with too much free time. Lena decided that now was definitely the time to call Emily. She might not have done it before due to the lack of time and base security, but now that Winston could make sure that neither side of the call could be traced, it was more than time. Winston also believed that everyone had been working for a while, especially since they were all aware of how empty the watchpoint still was, and they deserved some free time to see different people. Reinhardt refused, saying that his duty was to protect at all times and being so far away would stop him from doing so should they need his help immediately. Neither him nor Brigitte had the means to contact Torbjörn, and they bittersweetly had to admit that there wasn't really anyone else to call. But Reinhardt soon laughed it off, holding all of them close.

 

“These are different times, after all, and you are the people who matter to me. Brigitte is family as much as you two are. If it's just us, then it's more than any of us could have hoped, and it's good just as it is.”

Lena felt a swell of emotion and pride at hearing Reinhardt refer to her as family. Even after all that happened, he came back nearly unchanged. His booming voice, large stature, and kindness warmed the place up like it had just now started to thaw from a long and lonely winter. They still sometimes huddled together to fight away the cold loneliness that could sometimes threaten to overtake any of them, but it was easier.

 

Lena suggested that all of them say hello to Emily, Reinhardt readily agreeing, while Winston mumbled something unintelligible and - Lena was sure of it - blushed at Reinhardt's affirmation of affection. Brigitte simply smiled and said that she'd be honoured to meet the one who won Lena's heart.

 

The communication with Emily was emotional, Lena’s brows creasing in worry upon hearing her girlfriend’s tired and slightly worn voice. Once Reinhardt’s booming one filled the room (and the room on the other end as well), however, some of that worry faded away in favour of the happiness of camaraderie, everyone glad to hear from Lena’s girlfriend after all this time apart. Reinhardt profusely thanked Emily for taking care of “their girl”, and Winston tried to hide his relief and joy under scientific questions about Lena’s harness, which Emily saw right through.

 

When the Slipstream accident happened, Winston had been the one to break the news to Emily. The first moments of fear and despair passed, he promised her that he would keep trying, and Emily’s full confidence in his future success, as well as her constant encouragement, were one of the reasons why Winston never gave up on trying to find a solution. When he found it, the two girls’ happiness made every sleepless night and hour of tireless work worth it. Winston, however, soon insisted on teaching Emily about the chronal accelerator. While the bigger specifics were too complicated for a crash course or really anyone that wasn’t a genetically-modified-genius-scientist-from-the-moon, Emily was a very apt and willing student when it came to maintenance and problem-solving protocols. A couple months later, she could handle every scenario that Lena could encounter, save for the most technically advanced ones that had little to no chance of happening.

 

The time they spent together back then, and Emily’s own talents at reading people, made her very good at knowing what Winston was truly feeling, even though he was grateful that she didn’t mention it in public, and at the present time on the call with their group of "musketeers". The scientist was more secretive when it came to emotions, and Emily understood that it was important to him that things stay that way.

 

Tracer was happy to hear her girlfriend’s voice and made sure to say so, but she soon paused with a contrite look. Emily caught on even faster than Lena could blink.

“Lena? What’s wrong?” She asked, the worry in her voice palpable even if it was through a phone, and Lena felt guilt knot her stomach.

“Em, love, I’m not sure I can visit on the small break Winston’s going to give us next week-end.” The line was quiet for a few seconds, which did nothing to help Lena’s situation.

 

The quiet lasted for what felt like hours, but Lena knew not to ramble on in these moments. Emily needed to process the news.

“I understand.” Emily simply said, and if it had been anyone else her talents at hiding her sadness would have fooled them, but everyone in the room bar Brigitte knew her well, and all of them could read and understand how the redhead felt at that moment. They all were shocked and confused, too, and had no idea why Lena wasn't going to go back to London.

“I’m sorry, I was meaning to at first, but then we were watching the telly the other night and I realised something, I’m giving the others the details right after we get this call done. I have to check it out ASAP and it’s a pretty far flight as well as a big chance to take, so I’ll need the full week-end to get it done. That and the fact that the best shot I'll have will be on Saturday evening, and there's only so much that can be done to keep a bird discreet. I really am sorry, Emily.” Lena explained, adding the last part a second after.

“No, no, I really do understand. It’s okay, Lena, I’ll see you some other time.” She paused, and Lena understood she was quietly sighing. When she spoke up again, the tiredness Lena heard had started seeping through again. “Well, I’ll leave you to your briefing, then. I have to get back to work soon anyways.” Lena nodded. She still had to brief her team about her newfound mission, and then they’d prep for the week-end leave.

“Take care of yourself, love, alright? Don’t let the blokes at your job make it too hard on you.”

“You got it. Reinhardt, Winston, Brigitte, watch over my girlfriend, alright? And Lena, just… Please, be careful.”

“When am I not?” Lena asked, knowing that it was a terrible question to ask.

“You don’t want me to answer that. Or either of them.” Came Emily’s answer, unimpressed.

“…  Aw, love, you wound me. Such sarcasm to my honesty, such doubt to my skill!” The brunette said after a pause, exaggerating her reaction to a very dramatic performance. “Touché, though.” She added afterwards, as if it were an afterthought. Emily’s small giggle at the end of the line, borne from Lena’s self-derision, was music to her ears, though, and Lena felt much better for it. Nonetheless, a corner of her mind registered how much she’d missed hearing that sound and needed to hear it more, soon, and in real life.

“Well, now I really have to go, Helena’s calling for me. Bye, you three, look after each other. I love you Lena!”

“Love you too, Em!” The line went silent.

 

Lena stared at her phone for a few seconds longer before looking up at her companions. She really had to make it up to Emily the next time they saw each other. Surprise her, maybe. Yeah, definitely surprise her. And flowers, she absolutely needed flowers. Restaurant, maybe, although she didn’t have much money at the moment since she spent what she’d spared to buy the necklace she gave to Emily, and as nice as working for Overwatch was, it wasn’t exactly paid work, what with being a now-unofficial-and-definitely-renegade thing to do. Cooking, though, that she could. Lena made a mental note to look up recipes online and practise in the watchpoint’s kitchens.

 

She interrupted her grand romantic plotting to clear her throat, pocketing her phone, then addressed the two agents looking at her with questioning and confused stares. _Well, here goes nothing!_ she thought, taking a deep breath before dropping the bomb on them.

 

“I’m going to Brazil.”


	9. Risks And Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha and Angela have a much-needed conversation (bit of angst there too but with a good ending), and make plans themselves for the future after a close call at Helix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delayed posting due to a bit of an emergency that had to be handled, but all good now, and posted at least on the promised day! Enjoy!

Angela and Fareeha soon fell into an easy routine. The soldier would wake up early, while the doctor lay fast asleep, and leave a hot thermos of coffee on her table before leaving to train or going on small recon operations, attempting to find out where the people who had been harrying the base were hiding out. Angela would wake up not too long later, cursing either the daylight that seeped in through her window or the noisy soldiers training outside. The freshly brewed coffee that always lay on the table whenever she would pad into the small kitchen, clumsy with sleep, would cheer her up without fail.

 

Angela was a light sleeper. When she was working alone, in recluse villages where she was needed most, the smallest noise would have her jolting out of bed, ready for the worst. After all, she’d had her fair share of people with not-so-good intentions, and knew better than to let her guard down. And Fareeha, Fareeha was a soldier. An amazing, skilled soldier, but a soldier nonetheless, and one who frequently had trouble not knocking anything over in Angela’s lab, her suit or stature sometimes making her clumsy in small, closed quarters.

 

So how did she manage to always, without fail, weave through Angela’s sometimes cluttered interior, up to the table to put a large coffee thermos on top of it? A thermos that sometimes had a note about what Fareeha would be doing that day and wishes of an easy one for Angela (which rarely was, members of Helix rarely held back when it came to training, especially with the famous captain in the area). Angela had been watching her long-lost, now-found-again friend. While in the air, Fareeha was graceful, competent, and most likely deadly. On the ground, when out of her suit, she was unbelievably fast, still graceful, and just as good. The Egyptian woman had built herself a reputation that was hard to ignore, anyone in the base referring to her with reverence, sometimes jealousy, and most times wonder. The name of Ana Amari was almost a forgotten memory, the young captain shining through and gaining more respect for every mission she handled, none unsuccessful. But she'd seen Fareeha in her own personal quarters near the medbay, and she could also be awkward in her demeanor. Yet oddly quiet in each of those mornings.

 

Angela had asked her countless times about how she managed to be so quiet, but Fareeha had just smiled the warm smile that always made Angela need a moment, and ducked her head, never revealing her secrets. Sometimes, in these malicious bright brown eyes, Angela would see a hint of the sniper she’d fought along, though she’d keep it to herself. _No need to reopen old wounds_ , she thought. The lack of answer was amusing at first, Angela taking it as Fareeha’s way of having a little secret, but soon she started doubting her ability to keep herself safe. What if she had to leave some day, and couldn’t wake up at someone entering her room uninvited?

 

The question eventually brought up a lot of stress, then some additional anger, until she one day made sure to wake up before Fareeha, so that she could see her come in. She sat up in bed, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, and waited. The soldier went through the door quietly, and Angela felt a pang of endearment at the care with which she padded inside, slow and attentive not to knock anything over. Once she reached the table, she laid the thermos in front of Angela’s usual spot, a small post-it note stuck to the top. Angela caught the ghost of a smile on the woman’s lips, before she turned around to where she was supposed to lay asleep in bed.

 

Surprise crossed her face for half a second, as Fareeha was startled to see the doctor awake, soon replaced by a worried frown.

 

“Angela? Why are you awake? Is everything okay?” She asked, not bothering to hide the fear in her words should the answer to the last question be a no. Angela’s anger subsided almost immediately, replaced by guilt. She had been taking her own fears out on her friend, without even voicing out her concerns about how she was feeling, and why. She sighed and looked down, tiredness catching up with her now that stress and anger were seeping away solely because Fareeha was there. Rubbing a hand down her face and over her tired eyes, she started apologising.

 

“Fareeha, I’m… I’m sorry. Ever since Overwatch fell, I’ve been able to fend for myself. No one has ever been able to catch me unaware.” She paused, looking for her words, and the soldier patiently waited for her to get where she needed to. “Not everyone was kind, and some tried to break into where I had my quarters to take my things or hurt me before, but I’ve always been able to sense their presence and wake up. Everywhere except here. With you. I still don’t know why, and when I asked you didn’t answer, so I don’t know how to feel about it. I have to keep myself safe, Fareeha, and someone being able to slip into my room without me catching them is…” She let out a sigh, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “scary”.

 

She avoided Fareeha’s eyes, all too aware of the expression she should be wearing, if the way her breath caught in her throat was any indication. Angela kept her gaze trained on the ground, until military boots entered her field of view, then more of Fareeha as she knelt down in front of her, crossing her arms on the bed and leaning her chin on them. Her eyes tried to catch Angela’s, waiting to speak until they did. Angela avoided them expertly, so Fareeha reached out a hand that bore the marks of many fights. It was strong, rough, and callused, yet when she laid it on Angela’s hands it was a gentle and light touch. The soldier’s voice was even more tender, her tone completely devoid of command or mockery.

 

“Angela?” She waited, patiently, her thumb brushing on the back of the doctor’s hand, stilling her fidgeting. Blue eyes finally looked into her own. “I’m sorry I scared you. I promise, I would never, ever, hurt you. And as long as you allow me to stay around, I wish pity upon anyone who would dare to try. I will do everything, anything, to make you feel safe, and to protect you.” A pause. Fareeha seemed to reflect upon something, before she spoke again, eyes still trained on Angela’s. “And maybe that’s why you can sleep while I walk inside your place. Maybe I make you feel safer? This is not a combat zone, and you deserve some rest. Anyone knows you deserve it. Maybe the fact that you’re sleeping through my visits just means that you trust me?” Her voice lifted up, hope painting her words. There was a long pause after she stopped talking, the sincerity of her words seeming to echo around the walls. But the silence dragged on unbroken, and Fareeha looked away, her hopeful expression dropping. “Although if you’d rather I stop and leave you alone, I will. I will do as you wish. I apologise.” She finished the sentence in a sad and insecure whisper, her hand apologetically retracting.

 

Angela’s heart broke some more at the soldier’s vulnerability, and her hands immediately missed the warmth of Fareeha’s palm. The soldier was getting up, avoiding her eyes, schooling her features into a neutral mask, and Angela knew that she had to do something. She jumped off her bed and grabbed Fareeha’s forearm, trying to convey the words she meant to say through her eyes, as they seemed to die on her lips. Fareeha’s eyes were back into her own, though the Egyptian woman was holding herself backwards, most likely afraid that Angela would feel threatened by her. Angela wanted more than anything to erase those last moments, to see the woman's smile again, as if no wedge had ever been driven between them. She wanted to confirm that Fareeha did make her feel safe, that she simply hadn't considered that possibility, and that she couldn’t see a reason why she ever would want her to leave. But Fareeha’s eyes, and the feeling behind them, made her heart lurch, and suddenly Angela couldn’t form a coherent thought. She just wanted to fix it. She needed to. She was a healer, after all, and in her experience, relationships could mend just like wounds, provided it was given the opportunity to heal and the right treatment.

 

Angela did the only thing she could, following her heart and throwing common sense to the wind. She’d been alone for a really long time. Life had taken her home and family from her twice already, and she’d just found a small piece of it again. She didn’t want to lose it. She couldn’t, and she definitely wasn’t going to let it happen if she could do something about it. Fareeha had lost a lot, too, and she didn’t want to be someone who would cause her that kind of pain.

 

She wrapped her arms around Fareeha’s chest, pressing herself against the rough fabric of her uniform and breathing in the faint scent of her soap and deodorant, her head resting against the soldier’s chest. Fareeha hesitated, taken aback by the sudden show of affection, but Angela whispered, “I’m sorry” into her chest, and she couldn’t help herself. She was scared that caring too much for Angela had driven the woman away, and as much as it hurt, Fareeha would die before hurting her more than she’d already had. She had decided that walking away was the best solution to spare Angela more distress, her own feelings be damned. But now Angela was against her chest, seeking solace, safety, and forgiveness in her arms. She draped them around the smaller woman, holding her, whispering reassuring words in various languages to soothe her, her hands rubbing comforting circles around her back. Fareeha’s chin rested on top of Angela’s head, and they stood there for a while, taking comfort in the arms of one another.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Angela woke up to the sound of someone softly padding around her room. She jumped out of bed without a sound, her senses alert, until her eyes zeroed in on a soldier trying to move around her room quietly.

 

It wasn’t Fareeha, although he was carrying her usual coffee thermos. When he turned around and saw her wide awake and standing, he squealed and almost fell down, although he managed to get a hold of himself rather quickly. Seeing that he had no weapon, Angela didn’t dive for her own, and instead simply asked him who he was and what he was doing there. He straightened up, standing at attention, and (slightly loudly) declared his name, explaining that “Captain Amari” had to leave very early on a mission, and had therefore tasked him to deliver the thermos, since she couldn’t be there. He also apologised profusely for waking the doctor up, which she dismissed with her hand, instead asking about the captain’s mission.

 

As it turned out, the man didn’t have much information. The higher-ups believed that they had found the location of a camp where some of the people harrying them had holed up, and Fareeha (Captain Amari, Angela recalled. She actually had never called Fareeha that, and was interested by the title. Maybe she sould use it more often, especially in front of other people) was part of a strike team who was meant to subdue, or – in the worst case – take down the people who were there.

 

Angela couldn’t help but feel her heart sink with worry. Fareeha could get hurt over there, and she wouldn’t be able to protect or help her. All she could do was prepare and wait for the team to come back. She thanked the man, taking the thermos and letting him return to his usual schedule. A folded-up note fell out when she opened it, and Angela picked it up, unfolding Fareeha’s message and reading the neat handwriting inside.

 

_“Angela. If you already know where I am, then you can still wake up if other people wander near you when you sleep. The mission I’m on shouldn’t take more than a day, and we’re taking them by surprise, so the risks factors are lower than when they attack us here. Don’t worry, we’ll still be careful. I’ll see you this evening. Fareeha.”_

 

The doctor smiled. She was indeed still able to look after herself, Fareeha was just an exception. Her affection for the woman only grew from the small attention, and she ate her breakfast with a smile. Once she was done, though, she started preparing for the worst. Filing the necessary paperwork for extra supplies that the higher-ups at Helix would order for her (she wasn’t a hired medic, so she didn’t have a salary, but since she was helping they at least owed her food, shelter, and anything she would need to take care of their employees), making sure that everything in the medical wing was ready for whatever could happen to the Raptora team, and even discussing with some doctors who needed her advice. She read to pass the time, and let her mind wander to Fareeha.

 

They’d found each other at an interesting time. Angela had received Winston’s message a few days earlier, deciding against going back, and then Fareeha was in front of her. The one who dreamed of Overwatch facing the one who’d given up on it. At first, she thought that telling Fareeha would make her angry. That she’d just leave and join. But Fareeha understood. She even _agreed_ with Angela. They both missed their found family, but they had each other now, and it was more than either could have dreamed of when Overwatch fell.

 

* * *

 

 

Angela also wondered about the organisation. Was Winston’s recall successful? Did any of the former members actually answer? If yes, which ones, and were they safe? Or – and Angela’s heart broke at the thought – did they get hurt or killed trying to fight the good fight again, without a healer at their side? She remembered them like it was yesterday.

 

Lena, bright and joyous Lena, always with a smile, a giggle, a joke, or a trick to cheer the room. Lena who could shine even in the darkest moments. It seemed like there was no limit to how much she could love and care about people. Her energy was infectious, and Angela loved spending time with her. These moments gave her so much hope for the future. Even the Slipstream incident didn’t deter her from believing in the world and wanting to become a hero to help people. There was no way that she wasn’t affected by that kind of trauma, but then Lena was Lena. She always cared about others more than herself, and she pushed through it all so that she could keep doing what she loved, which was being a force for good and doing the right thing. Back before the disband, Lena had announced that she recently had gotten a girlfriend, Angela recalled. How did that go for her? Hopefully that girl didn’t break the agent’s heart, because if she did and Angela ever met her? Well. There’s a reason most people never try to contradict her. Angela is very calm and kind, but Lena deserves someone who would treat her right, and the doctor is very protective of those she loves.

 

Then there was Reinhardt, the German giant who took her under his wing as soon as she arrived, speaking to her in German so she wouldn’t feel so out of place. He became like a second father to her. He was extremely brave, and could bolster people with his loud voice and honour code. Every aspiring hero looked up to him. He was a legend. His armour inspired his allies and frightened his enemies, and the only thing bigger than him was his heart. He always had a kind word, and a strong hand to lay on a shoulder. Overwatch trying to get rid of him was a hard blow, and he never truly gave up the fight, at least until the fall. His loyalty and belief in the organisation turned him from hero to pariah, and he had to disappear. Was he alright? _Was he even still alive_ , Angela wondered, and she had to get her mind off of that thought quickly, as the feelings that subsequently crashed on her like a tidal wave threatened to drown her. Reinhardt was okay. He had to be.

 

Winston was alright, that was for certain. He’d scared her at first, when she arrived from Switzerland into the brand-new Overwatch base, but then they started talking and before long it was easy to find one with the other, discussing a topic completely alien to most other, engrossed in conversations filled with scientific lingo. He was a good speaking companion, and his inventions saved countless lives on the battlefield.

 

Torbjörn was one of the only other people who could follow along Winston and Angela’s scientific exchanges. He had a big brain, a bigger family, and an even bigger heart. He was always tinkering with something and inventing new machines. His reputation was made before Overwatch, so Angela didn’t doubt that he went back to being a famous engineer, even through the danger he might have been exposed to from having built so many omnics and working for the now-hated organisation. He might be working in the dark, but he had to be working nonetheless.

 

They had lost Ana, Jack, and Gabriel before the fall, and Angela didn’t want to dwell onto painful memories too much. The rest of her family was, hopefully, alive, and until they were able to meet again, at least now she had Fareeha. That was a good thing.

 

* * *

 

 

She stood alone with her thoughts for a few more hours, reminiscing on the good things of the past while trying to ignore her growing concern as time passed and Fareeha was nowhere to be found. It was late in the evening now, the clock nearing midnight, and nothing or no one was in sight. Angela tried to rationalise, but to little effect. The longer Fareeha was out there, the more it meant that the mission had become harder than expected, which meant more chances of members of that team getting hurt.

 

Angela didn’t sleep, instead wandering the hallways asking people if they had any intel on the captain’s mission. Most didn’t seem to be worried, although the comms room was buzzing with activity, asking about status updates yet receiving no answer. Angela headed back to her quarters, pacing and trying to quiet her racing thoughts and heart.

 

At around two in the morning, Fareeha’s team came back and Angela could finally breathe. She was alive. She was even standing, which wasn’t the case for all of them. She was limping, bloodied, covered in soot and bruises, her traits somber, her broken Raptora mask hanging off the belt of her armour, and walked into the base supporting the weight of two of her teammates in her arms, but she was alive. When she saw Angela, her eyes lit up, and she threw her a tired an apologetic nod and smile as she carried them into the medical wing and laid them down on the stretchers, more coming in from those in her team that couldn’t walk, the rest sitting down on the chairs around, awaiting medical attention.

 

Angela worked tirelessly, hyperfocused solely on the task at hand, providing care for them with the other doctors responding to her every order. Some of the men were in a critical condition, but Angela was the greatest healer they could have been under the care of, and she managed to get all of them back to a stable state, or better. She stitched gaping wounds up, bandaged sprains, plastered bone fractures, and a few hours later, she finally moved on to the last patient that remained. Fareeha was stubborn enough to refuse medical attention until she knew that her whole team had pushed through. Now that the other doctors had left them, taking the rest of the Raptora fighters along to place them in a different resting room, the captain was alone in the doctor’s care.

 

Angela’s hands were gentle as she carefully removed the remaining pieces of her armour and unnecessary clothing. The soldier had a few fractured ribs, as well as a bad gash on her left shoulder, but was alright beyond that. Angela said nothing, prodding and healing until Fareeha’s hand covered hers.

 

“I’m sorry. They were more ready for us than we expected, and they had good weapons. One of the blasts destroyed our comms relay, and the Raptoras don’t reach far enough without it. But I’m okay, now. We all are. Thanks to you.”

 

Angela stilled. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to shout at Fareeha for making her worry, for toying with her own life, and for the risk that such an existence put her in, but she knew better. The whole family she grew in was composed of people willing to protect the innocent until their last breath. Fareeha was no different, and making someone feel ashamed for doing the right thing wasn’t something that Angela would do. Instead, she sought refuge in the soldier’s arms, careful not to press on the wounds, and Fareeha didn’t need words to understand. Tiredness finally caught up to them both, and as they sat on Angela’s couch, Fareeha getting the events of that night off her chest – they had to kill some of the criminals there, and as much as Fareeha knew it might happen, she never enjoyed taking a life – they slowly dozed off together. Fareeha carried Angela, who had fallen asleep, to bed and, after hearing the woman’s pleading voice asking her to stay, she slipped in bed after her.

 

Fareeha was warm, and Angela was surprised at how safe she felt at her side. She never though she would ever feel like that again, not after Overwatch fell and she had to wander the world alone. But there, in Angela bed, with Fareeha nodding her consent at Angela’s silent question to snuggle into her side, both women felt a newfound hope for the future. They could take on anything, as long as they had each other.

 

The next morning, as they ate breakfast together, Fareeha asked Angela to train with her.


	10. Business Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena goes off on her own solo mission and makes a few interesting encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm extremely slow on updates, I'm sorry, school work is literally crushing me and I'm actually uploading this in class because I know y'all deserve this! Enjoy ^~^

Rio was huge. That much Lena could notice, as she landed the small plane she’d used to get there unnoticed. She was a small distance from the actual city, knowing that she could hitchhike on a hovertrain to get to the heart of it and not wanting anyone to know of her presence. What she was doing was dangerous enough as it was, making too much noise was simply too foolish, even for her.

 

The next thing she noticed upon exiting her transport was that Rio was very warm. She’d forgone her signature bomber jacket for a t-shirt and hoodie that hid her anchor, as well as dark grey pants and a dark pair of sneakers. The humid heat of the city was already making her regret her decision and wish that she could take at least one layer off. For the moment, though, she put a beat-up baseball cap on her messy brown hair and started walking towards the train tracks.

 

Hitchhiking on a train was easy, especially when one could control their own time. Once she started learning to handle her newfound powers, Lena had found a lot of fun travelling on transport bots as they sped past her in the various watchpoints. Sometimes empty, sometimes full, and always going somewhere. Soon enough even Winston was starting to believe that she could even be at two places at once. She’d given Angela quite a scare when the doctor saw the mop of brown hair and heard the musical giggle on top of a robot transporting engineering equipment that Lena was sitting amongst, which sped past her. Overall, though, it was funny, quicker than walking, and allowed her to check on many people at once. She always made sure to make a detour (that took nearly no time at all since she blinked on and off the platform in a heartbeat) by Angela’s medbay to leave a thermos of coffee, courtesy – and order, really – of Fareeha. In the end, she ran errands for many people, and still managed to be on time where she needed to be. Best of both worlds.

 

Lena hid in the bushes, away from view, as a signal from a nearby road crossing signalled the arrival of the train. There were no cameras where she stood, although she was aware that there could be some on the train, and sensors that could detect presence. She’d have to be careful, and grab a ride on one of the later wagons. She focused on her breathing, body tensing, waiting for the perfect window of action. Her lungs and heart slowed, all dwindling down to one single moment when she would strike.

 

As the train whizzed past her at an incredible speed, Lena bolted forwards, jumping toward the heavy machinery that could destroy on impact any obstacle it could encounter.

 

* * *

 

 

If Lena hadn’t been prepared for it or thought of that possibility, there would have been a flash of blue light following her blinking. However, she’d taken the time back when she was a vigilante to make sure that it wouldn't be the case, and even Emily would try to come up with plans to keep her from being recognised as an ex-member of Overwatch. Together, they constructed what she dubbed her “Stealth Getup” (to Winston’s great dismay since he would have preferred something along the lines of "light intensity dimmer", or LID, which had the couple laughing right as they heard it). It consisted of a 3D-printed “cap” that would be clipped over the entirety of her chest and anchor, similarly to a light body armour or a thin bulletproof vest, and would help lessen the bulge of the accelerator by covering most of her torso with a foam-like structure, denser in the centre to block out the light. Between that and the hoodie she wore, it was unrecognisable to the untrained eye (and still very hard to those who knew).

 

As she landed on the train platform without being seen nor heard, Lena felt a slight pang of guilt. It was Emily who had come up with the Stealth Getup idea, as well as drew the plans, picked the material after hours upon hours of research into what could and couldn't work and their respective levels of practicality, and used her job’s 3D printer with a colleague’s card to make sure that it would never be traced back to her. Still, it was a risk, and Lena would have protested had she known. As it were, Lena came home one night, and Emily was holding what _definitely_ looked like black chest armour in her hands, their ideas now made into a real object.

 

Unsurprisingly, she’d gotten the measurements perfectly, and as she clipped it over Lena’s chest to make sure that it fit, Lena felt how much her girlfriend still believed in her. Being caught printing something with the clear shape of the staple piece of technology that belonged to Overwatch’s former golden child was definitely dangerous. More than dangerous, in fact. Sure, the Petras acts put Lena and all her former colleagues in danger, but in reality, it put anyone who would try to be a vigilante in danger. Ever. All the media had to do was draw a line between someone's attempt at protecting people beyond what the law did and the former organisation, and that person was in for all the consequences that bore down on the former agents.

 

Vigilantism, in all shape or form, was forbidden. Those who tried had to be extremely careful, or risk being heavily punished as an “example” to the rest. The risk that Emily took overwhelmed Lena. She understood how much the redhead was willing to risk to ensure her safety and wellbeing, but also felt a great amount of fear at the possibility of her getting caught. Emily spent a while reassuring her that she’d made sure it wouldn't happen. She was safe.

 

The former agent sat down in between cargo boxes, getting as comfortable as she could manage, and awaited the train’s swift arrival in Rio. She blinked off of it once it got close enough and sent a quick text to Winston. He replied, confirming that the train hadn’t registered nor signalled any suspicious activity based off the (very unsecure) comms channel that the train staff was using.

 

Craning her neck, Lena could see high buildings she was quick to get to the top of, getting her bearings. The heat of the afternoon was slowly melting away into the freshness of the evening, and she was glad. Much harder to get caught during the night, and much more comfortable heat-wise.

 

From the top of one of the highest buildings she could see the arena. That was her goal.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Under her was Rio, with neighbourhoods recently destroyed by someone who, apparently, has neither been caught nor identified by authorities, and then rebuilt by the renowned Vishkar company. Even more recently, it had been taken back by its inhabitants through a small civil war. While Vishkar’s owners did their best trying to keep their unethical behaviour towards the citizens under wraps, a since-then unknown street musician had risen up, taking a stand against the injustice of their situation and against the famed worldwide power. He’d been loud, and he’d been heard, especially by his people. He was rumoured to have a very special weapon, taken from Vishkar laboratories, but that was surely speculation. Or, at least, it’s what those who didn’t want people to know said.

 

Lena knew better. That man, whomever he was, had more than one ability under his belt. Sure, his weapon, if it truly was Vishkar tech, would be a great asset, but what Lena wanted to see wasn’t his firepower. No, what she had an interest in was much more interesting, and much more unexplainable, too.

 

He was left alone.

 

Lúcio Correia dos Santos, former street musician and now hero of Rio, was famous throughout the world. People knew what he did, and what he fought for as well as against. Following these moments when he freed his neighbourhood from Vishkar influence, he blew up, and people knew what he fought against. Yet none of the newspapers spoke ill of him. Even more, they praised him. Listened to him. Repeated what he said instead of simply taking the word of the institution wielding both the power and the funds. He wasn’t affected by the Petras acts. And that’s what Lena was most curious about.

 

Similar to when the people veered their anger from her and Angela, the civilians protected Lúcio from people who wished to hurt him using the Petras acts. Even Vishkar couldn’t touch him. As she made her way through the bustling streets of Rio, keeping her head down and veering towards the Arena, that was the thought that ran through Lena’s minds. Lúcio had the public’s affection, just like she and Angela did. And it’s helping him become a hero.

 

That was why Lena had gone all the way there. She was hoping to talk to him, sure that he would understand, and perhaps even help.

 

After all, the world could always use more heroes.


	11. Team-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena gets to meet Lúcio, the man she's been looking for. But as lovely as being mutual fans of each other can be, party-crashers are never far...

The concert was amazing, as Lena had expected. She’d slipped inside quietly, away from the cameras, blinking to the rooftops then into the stadium unseen. Her accelerator let out a quiet beep once her feet touched the floor of a tribune, complaining against the power use and signalling that it needed time to recharge, but Lena was inside and that was all she needed.

 

She let Lúcio’s music carry her, closing her eyes as soon as the first few notes started, a goofy smile making its way onto her face. He really was awesome. His energic voice and positive attitude were a great addition. When it ended, Lena made sure to buy an album to give to Emily when she was able to get home.

 

She left the stadium and discretely went into an alleyway alongside it, leaning against a wall. Lúcio had yet to make his exit, and she wanted to talk to him in private, away from prying eyes and ears.

 

She didn’t have to wait for long.

 

Looking slightly anxiously around, a dark hoodie over his bright tank top and a backpack slung over one shoulder, Lúcio stepped out of a house on the side of the structure, stopping dead in his tracks as he noticed the figure waiting for him, a hoodie similar to his and a cap screwed to their head even though it had gotten dark now. Lúcio reached into his backpack in a second, pulling out a colourful object that he held like a gun. Lena recognised his music coming out of what had to be the barrel. It was pointed at her.

 

“Who are you and what do you want?” He asked, in a voice he wanted strong, but that he couldn’t stop from wavering slightly.

 

He’d had to deal with attacks from Vishkar, attempts to kill their revolution by getting rid of their figurehead and getting their stolen technology back at the same time. This one felt different, though. The person leaning against the wall didn’t seem to be wearing any of their technology, the white shiny metal and Vishkar logos absent, as well as no visible weapons. It never hurt to be careful, though.

 

The figure raised its hands, palms open and towards him to show that they weren’t armed, and spoke with an accent that Lúcio needed a moment to understand.

 

“Don’t worry, love, I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.” A small giggle followed, one that Lúcio could swear he’d heard before. He lowered his gun, cocking his head in curiosity.

“Alright, then talk.” He was still wary, especially since there was no face he could put on the familiar voice.

“Thanks. You’re quite the hero around here, yeah?”

“I guess some people say I am. Some believe quite the contrary, however” He sighed.

“That why you carry this thing around?” The figure asked, pointing at the gun in his grasp.

“Yes. Alright, could you please answer my first question? Who are you?” He pressed, still slightly uncomfortable to not know who his interlocutor was, especially since they sounded familiar.

“Oh, right! Sorry, guess I’m too used to keeping this on, huh?” They answered, that same familiar giggle following.

 

Without hesitation, the figure took the cap off of their head, revealing untameable brown hair and sparkly brown eyes, the famous mischievous grin now visible in the moonlight.

 

Lúcio’s breath caught in his throat.

 

Everyone he knew could recognise that hair and grin. They all had grown up with Overwatch posters, the heroes appearing everywhere, standing up for justice, protection, and doing the right thing in general. Thus, they’d all seen a specific young British girl run around, a grin plastered on her face, always raising everyone’s spirits.

 

Ever since he first saw her on TV, Lúcio had been inspired by Tracer. By her strength when facing adversity. By how good her heart was, even through and after the horrors of the war. By her unbreakable will to be a force for good. She was who he wanted to be when he grew up. A hero that protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. As he decided that he could not just accept the fact that Vishkar was mistreating his people, one of her catchphrases had rang through his head.

 

“You know, the world could always use more heroes.”

 

So, he became one. And now she was standing in front of him, as real as his heart was beating. After the fall, she’d disappeared, but he’d always kept in his heart the hope that she was alive and well, still doing what she did best but more covertly. And apparently, he’d been spot on to think so.

 

“Tracer?” He still asked, hope and shock shaking his voice.

 

Lena laughed, the happiness and admiration in his eyes an expression she thought she’d never see again on a stranger's face since the fall of Overwatch.

 

“Cheers, love. The cavalry’s here!” She said, relishing in the way his whole face lit up. “Guess some of you do still believe in us, huh? That’s good to hear.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the reason why I stood up against these people! You gave me the courage to be a hero! There are so many people here who would love to meet you!” His body was almost trembling in excitement, on the verge of throwing himself at her, and Lena noticed.

“Sorry, love, I can’t really go public for now. Most governments are still really heavy on former Overwatch agents. And stop holding yourself back, I know you wanna hug me!” He was on her in seconds, wrapping his arms around her as she did the same, both with a goofy grin on their face.

 

They stood like that for a while before parting, now closer than they were, and Lúcio put his gun back into his backpack. He was polite enough not to ask about why he could feel a hard body armour-like structure under her hoodie, and Lena was thankful for it. She cleared her throat, and decided to be completely upfront about why she came.

 

She made it short, telling him about the recall and how she immediately joined back up, soon followed by Reinhardt. When he heard about the recall, he lit up, still believing in Overwatch, but his smile disappeared when he realised that there were only three in the watchpoint.

 

“You mean… Nobody else came back?” He frowned, both shocked and saddened.

“Yeah, it’s really just us. I mean, it’s definitely not wise to start that, if we get caught we’ll be in a world of trouble, but I couldn’t just refuse, not when I could do much more with the resources we’ve got!” Her honesty was a blessing to see, struggling to keep her voice down under the strong belief she had in her words.

“I definitely agree with you on that there. Being a lone vigilante can be hard, especially when I know that with the right resources I could help people all over the world.” He finished his sentence quietly, regret apparent in his words, and Lena winced. He really was a lot like her.

“That’s… actually why I came to talk to you, to be honest.” Lena rubbed the back of her head, suddenly feeling a little unsure about whether or not she should put him in that much danger.

“What do you mean?” Lúcio’s eyebrows shot up, unsure of what Lena was getting at.

“Lúcio… Would you like to join me? Us? Be an actual Overwatch agent, as unofficial as we are right now? I won’t sugar coat it for you, love, it’s a hell of a risk, and the consequences should we get caught at the wrong time would be awful, but I noticed a pattern in what’s happened when Overwatch fell the first time. Me and Angie – Mercy –, well, we got it the easiest, and I realised that it was because we were popular. People loved us not only because of the organisation we were working for, but also because of who we were as people. Nowadays, vigilantism is punished, yet you’re completely left alone, for the same reasons. The population loves you too much to allow the authorities to go against you. So, I figured, if I team us up, we can actually reform Overwatch. Be what it was, a force for good, loved by the population. Bring them hope, yeah?”

 

Lúcio was quiet, staring at Lena, mouth agape as he processed her request. She started fidgeting, but allowed him a moment of quiet after her rambling.

 

“You’re… asking me to join you? In a new Overwatch? You want me to be a part of it?” He asked, wondering if he hit his head at some point and was hallucinating.”

“Uh… Yeah? I mean I’d totally understand if you don’t want to, it’s bloody risky, not to mention stupid. But if you’re with us, I have a spot in a small plane with your name on it!” She smiled, not her usual grin but a small upturn of her lips, sincere and inviting.

“Are you kidding me! Of course I’m with you! You have no idea how much I’ve dreamt of this, being at your side and doing good together. Am I actually dreaming? Is this real life? Oh, this is the best thing ever!” He laughed, and Lena couldn’t help but join him, shocked at how eager he was to accept, but over the moon that he was going to join them. They hugged again, both bearing a similar grin that would hurt someone’s face under normal circumstances, chuckling.

 

The happy moment was cut short. Out of the corner of her eye, Lena spotted a tall figure, a gun, and a bright blue light ball that forced them apart and made them dive for cover.

 

When it blew up behind the recently formed duo, Lúcio only had one word on his lips as he looked at the threat that was preparing another shot.

 

“Vishkar!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked that one, more coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at prongsandpens.tumblr.com if you have comments or requests :)


End file.
